


Carry Me Home

by Xhuuya



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Smut, hold the moan, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 07:57:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9538760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xhuuya/pseuds/Xhuuya
Summary: A game of restraint that can't last all day.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Busy day of running errands and didn't want to work on my more serious fic.
> 
> Friend gave me the prompt and I went with it.

“Ready?” Fareeha flips open her aviators and leans against the door frame that leads outside. 

“As ready as I think I can be.” Angela shifts, attempting to tug the ends of the short-shorts lower as a light blush spread over her pale cheeks. The blush spreads down her neck as she feels Fareeha’s eyes travel over her, drinking in the sight of her like a fine wine. Her hands move to fiddle with the end of the tank top that exposes her stomach. She stops after a few seconds, noticing that she’s fidgeting.

“Are you sure, _‘eni_?” Fareeha’s smile is a teasing one, but never fails to reflect her love. It never falters, as steadfast as the soldier that shows it. The Udjat beneath her eye seems to curl a little more when the smile reaches her eyes, twinkling with a certain amount of mischief behind the sunglasses. She reaches into one of the many pockets in her off-duty military shorts, flicking a switch on the remote hidden inside them.

Angela’s breath hitches and she lashes a hand out to curl her fingers into Fareeha’s shirt. “ _‘Umri._ ”

The pleading in Angela using her Egyptian endearments isn’t lost on Fareeha and she turns off the device buried between Angela’s legs and the tight fabric of her shorts. “I’ll remind you that this was your idea.”

As quickly as she had lost it, Angela’s composure returns, the years of professionalism showing as she straightens herself and takes a deep breath. “I just didn’t expect you to be so eager.” Her blue eyes are bright with desire as she winks at her. “Best we go before I drag you back to the bedroom and we never get our shopping done.”

The heat that blooms in Fareeha’s chest forces her to take a calming breath as well. She clears her throat and sweeps her hand across her chest, motioning Angela to walk out the door she was holding for her. There is more than appreciation in her hum as she watches Angela saunter past her. If they weren’t still so close to home, she might have hit the switch on the remote again just to see her squirm. 

\- - -

There is some relief in sitting beneath the shade of a large awning at the cafe, but Angela still pulls an ice cube from her water to rub against the back of her neck. This Egypt heat isn’t something she’s used to and her body begs for the chill of the mountains. 

Fareeha watches her, having to sip at her own water as her mouth goes dry. She tries not to blink as the ice melts over Angela’s neck and shoulders, rivulets of water tracing lines down her chest and disappearing between her breasts. Fareeha’s fingers flex, but part of the game is to restrain themselves, and her pride makes it easier to lace her fingers together on the table. 

Angela looks at her through lidded eyes. She hadn’t considered the action to be particularly attractive, but the way that Fareeha can’t take her eyes off her makes her exaggerate for her. She has to be careful, part of their game evident in the way Fareeha laces her fingers together instead of reaching out to her. An invisible restraint to sound and touch. 

Knowing that Fareeha was restraining herself already made Angela close her eyes, biting her cheek to keep back the groan building in the back of her throat. She thinks of her mistake much too late, the vengeful vibrations rippling through her and making her choke on the sound instead. 

A nearby waitress on the way to another table hurries over as it turns into a coughing fit, placing a hand between Angela’s exposed shoulders. “Are you alright, Miss?” 

Angela nods with some effort, the cool hand on her back grounding her mind quickly. It gave her a thought. “Yes, I’m okay.” Her voice is smooth and speaking the Egyptian Arabic comes easily thanks to Fareeha’s patient lessons. 

It always surprises natives, and the waitress is no exception, jumping quickly to converse in it. “Can I get you anything? We have frozen teas and coffees if that might help.”

She’s oblivious to meaning of Angela’s soft smile, immune to the way she leans her cheek into her hand as she considers the offer and the way she listens intently to the options. Angela’s eyes slide to the side, watching Fareeha grit her teeth through the conversation. 

One of the pilot’s weaknesses is her penchant for jealousy. The idea of someone else touching Angela is one thing, but someone, unaware or not, actually doing it? Angela’s thinks she’s ready for the inevitable hum to begin between her legs, but her body betrays what her voice doesn’t, goosebumps trickling down her arms as she rubs her thighs together. She hides the motion by uncrossing and crossing her legs again.

Whether interested or not, the waitress can’t help but look at her long legs as she moves through the motion. Fareeha clears her throat and asks for espresso over ice, snapping her out of ogling a customer. The military tone is obvious though it wasn’t phrased as an order. She scampers away after taking Angela’s order, but can’t help being curious about the bright red blush spreading over the woman’s face.

“Fareeha.” Angela whines after she is out of earshot, the sound purposefully barely outside the restrictions for their game. She rests her chin on folded hands as she turns to her. 

“That was cruel of you.” Fareeha taps a finger on the menu, unable to focus on food when her appetite begs for a different reprieve. She tucks a braided lock of hair behind her ear before finally meeting Angela’s gaze. The soft and teasing expression threatens to break her will power already, but she shifts her eyes back to her water and tries to focus anywhere else.

“You didn’t think you’d get to be completely in control of all the fun did you?” Angela laughs, the sound warm and comfortable, like a familiar tea or night spent by a fireplace. It is familiar and soothing, only natural for a caretaker, but it has power far beyond those qualities. Even in jest, her words hide a strong desire that only Fareeha knows, and she uses them wisely to her advantage.

\- - -

After lunch, they continue their day of actual shopping. Angela had been begging to travel for more clothing, unable to stand the heat with most of what she had brought. So accustomed to wearing the medical uniform or the Valkyrie had apparently made her forget about real clothes.

Each time she speaks with a shopkeeper, she feels that keen reminder that Fareeha is watching. She toys with the idea of sauntering across shops, leaning and bending in certain ways to give her a view, and she takes pride each time she feels the flick of a switch ignite the vibrations in her shorts. Each time she imagines how Fareeha must be feeling, what she might be thinking, and the idea of losing this silly game if it means having her. Still, she continues drawing it out. The unclear part is how much longer she can last.

Fareeha sits nearby in most shops, watching Angela enjoy herself. She gives her opinions on pieces as she tries them on, giving the best options an extra nod of improvement with the remote in her pocket. 

At one point she forgets to turn off the device the entire time Angela is trying her latest outfit on, running her fingers along her thigh as it begins bouncing her foot impatiently. The simple idea of Angela restraining her moans through the day makes her want to rip one from her, but it’s the thought that leads to a realization. 

She’s sitting too far from the room. Angela could very well be achieving a sweet sort of relief because Fareeha can’t hear her! To make things worse, Fareeha can’t cheat in the same way due to Angela’s enhanced biology and hearing. 

So unfair. 

_So...cruel._

_...Angela knew what she was doing._

The thought makes Fareeha jump up, pleased beyond measure that the shop is currently empty so she doesn’t draw attention with the sudden motion. She feigns a languid pace over to the dressing room, actively trying to slow her erratic heart so she could hear. 

“Fareeha.” Angela purrs as she approaches the door, knowing that she would have gotten a shock of vibrations for it if her lover could think clearly. A thick and husky “yes?” is enough motivation to open the door and yank her inside the dressing room. “Have _mercy_.” 

Fareeha groans, closing the both small distance between them and the distance to the wall, pushing Angela against it. “I thought you might make me wait until we got home.”

Angela wraps her legs around Fareeha’s waist, looping her arms around her neck to pull her into a deep kiss. They stay like that for a long while, kissing as though they’ve been starved, hungry for one another, exploring the taste like it’s one they haven’t both memorized.

Angela shifts up on Fareeha’s hips so she can get the friction her body desperately craves. She forgets the vibrator is still on when she moves to rub against the firm abdominal muscles, and the sensation leaves her gasping and clawing at the pilot’s back with a surprised noise quickly silenced by another firm kiss. 

“Keep going.” Fareeha, or more so her Pharah now that her voice has a distinctive and commanding edge to it, growls below her ear, moving to kiss the pulse point on her neck.

Angela does as she’s told, her head thrown back and eyes fluttering closed as she focuses using the leverage from the wall and the strong hands now firmly gripping her ass to assist her. She’s trying to keep quiet, but she can hear how her voice has become a quiet, needy whine. It counters Pharah’s low rumble as she moves her attention lower, peppering kisses down her neck and chest, pausing only to give extra attention to the space between neck and shoulder. She’s being so damn careful, so light with her teeth that Angela would barely call it biting.

“ _‘Umri._ ” She breathes the word, barely more than a whisper into Pharah’s hair. Her lover’s hands move beneath the shirt she had been trying on, teasing the sensitive skin of her ribs, teasing the contact she knows Angela wants. One hand moves to wrap itself in that hair that smells like sweat and incense, the other digging into her back a bit more, incentivizing, begging.

Pharah rewards her tugging at her, trusting Angela’s strength as she uses both hands to cup her breasts, fingers dancing over the sensitive skin. She lowers her head, trailing her kisses lower and capturing one of the stiff nipples between her lips, humming as she feels Angela flex and twitch against her, thighs tightening around her waist. 

Angela hadn’t even realized that at some point the shirt had been removed, even as her mind tries to supply her with the memory of watching as Pharah slowly (achingly so) slid the bra from around her shoulders. Her rhythm is erratic now as she continues to try and comply with Pharah’s earlier demand, distracted by her mouth around her. Shadows of kisses dot her skin and it feels like she’s everywhere (her mind is again failing to fire and acknowledge that impossibility), worshiping her whole body at once. She basks in this feeling until she feels a hand slide between her and those wonderfully rippling muscles, her eyes snapping open to look down.

Fareeha dances her fingers over the denim, pressing against the vibrator hidden beneath. The choked sound it prompts from Angela only makes her curl her fingers more, watching as her eyes dart for the door, a silent question with a not-so-hidden plea. 

“I don’t care.” Pharah mutters into her chest, moving her attention to the other breast, swirling her tongue around her nipple and pulling another gasp from her with her fingers.

The space between the fabric of her shorts and the angle that Pharah held her would never work. Angela’s skin nearly burns with the strength of her desire, grasping frantically at the shorts to try and remove them, even though she would need to separate herself from Pharah briefly to do so.

Another bit-too-loud whine escapes Angela’s lips and she claps a hand over her mouth to try and quiet it. A few breathless moments pass before they decide that if they had been heard, it wasn’t by the shopkeeper.

Pharah complies with the not quite silent request and removes the offending fabric, chewing her bottom lip as she takes a moment to appreciate the beauty that is a nude Dr. Angela Ziegler. Her pale skin works for her, making her look statuesque, and her lithe body is both muscular and soft at the same time. 

Angela’s blue eyes are patient, yet demanding, and Pharah does not make her wait long before she presses into her again. Angela holds her back for a moment, peeling the shirt and bra off of her so she can feel her bare skin against hers. She never relents in her kissing, even as her fingers tangle in the fabric, only moving away as it she pulls it over her head.

As hot as it is here, the sheen of sweat on their skin is a relief as the cooler night air creeps into the open shop. 

Their messy kisses continue, Pharah nibbling Angela’s bottom lip as she curls fingers between her legs, her middle finger seeking the sensitive bundle of nerves. Her shoulder receives the violent bite that restrains a long and guttural moan as Angela’s legs threaten to give out. The action makes her more eager to please, increasing her pace and pressure, teasing. 

Angela feels like she’s on fire, hotter than she’s been all day. Her light, her life, her fire, so gentle yet so eager. So very eager. Each motion of those slick fingers over her makes her shudder, gripping desperately at Pharah’s back and shoulders, muffling the sounds of her passion in her wonderful bronze skin, and relishing the ways the muscles worked beneath her hands.

Everything fades to the two of them. It doesn’t matter where, when, how, any of that. The details don’t matter. They are alone in their love.

Pharah isn’t going to let her zone out in her romantic and poetic thoughts just yet though. She curls two fingers inside of her, easily sliding without resistance aside from how the muscles tightened around her. Her thumb rubs circles against her clit as she starts slowly massaging, curling against the spot she knows Angela loves. 

Angela licks her lips, the copper taste of blood from biting back more moans sharp against her tongue before her body automatically heals.

If not for Pharah’s strong hand holding her up, curled around her lower back, she might have collapsed then and there. 

The day’s build up wound her so tight that it didn’t take long for Pharah to coax her release, holding a gentle palm over her mouth to muffle the animalistic sound of her orgasm. She continued to massage her slowly as she came down, waiting until the muscles around her fingers relaxed before letting her go. Each kiss from her collarbone to her lips was deliberate, soft and slow. Thoughtful. Loving. 

Even in her haze, Angela notices it of course. She sighs into the kiss as it finally meets her lips, draping herself against Pharah, heavy with pleasure and exhaustion both. Nothing but love lights her eyes as she looks up at her, a sleepy smile on her face.

“You’re going to have to carry me home, _‘Umri_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm super out of practice for writing smut honestly, but I hope you enjoyed! ;)
> 
> Feel free to bug me on my Tumblr too. Xhuuya.tumblr.com. 
> 
> 'Eni  
> 'Umri  
> Egyptian terms of endearment, according to a native speaker. I decided to do something a bit different than ya amar or habiibii for example.


End file.
